


cluster folds

by Lee_Mix



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 8,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lee_Mix/pseuds/Lee_Mix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Life never goes in a straight line. It's full of winding little paths that barely make sense." - A collection of prompts from my tumblr, posted onto archive of our own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adrien/Marinette - Winter Days

Months of the fighting took their toll. Scars kissed her skin with their permanent marks, black bags painted under her eyes from the exhaustion, and she could barely keep her head above water with the constant stress of crime fighting dragging her bare ankles back into the dark sea of confusion.

Suddenly, the idea of prom–or in this case, it was just a dance–wasn’t as haunting to get wrong as it should have been to a teenage girl. In spite of that, Marinette was there, sat outside with a glass of punch in her hand, watching as the snowflakes settled in their new home in the Parisian night. 

“Doesn’t seem as exciting after all the build-up, does it?”

She lifted her head and smiled at the sight of Adrien. Chat Noir. The two identities merged so well lately it was hard to remember he had two names. He came and sat next to her, black shoes settling in the snow.

It was hard to keep her eyes off him, honestly. Crisp in a white shirt and black waistcoat, his growing hair tied back in a small ponytail with one of her red hair ribbons, he really  _was_ lovely. Compared to him, dressed in a simple red dress and hair tied in her usual pigtails, she felt underdressed. 

“It’s just hard to believe there’s a moment of  _calm._ I should have been more nervous about this, you know? Proms… dances, even, I would have been so scared about what everyone thought of me.” She looked up to the sky and let out a breathy laugh. “Now I don’t  _care._ I’m just happy I can sit down without some fight.”

“Just sit down?”

She paused. “Well, there  _is_ dancing, but I’m no good at that. Alya tried to teach me, but…” She glanced over at the girl inside, who moved as if there was nobody around but the stars to watch her. “Well, you know. I don’t exactly want to dance in a crowded space.”

“…Well, there isn’t exactly a crowd outside.”

“What?” 

Her lips barely stopped curving into a smile as Adrien got off his chair, bowed in front of her, and offered a hand. “My Lady,” he winked. “Would you care to dance away from the prying eyes of those who may judge our  _terrible_ dancing skills?”

She covered her mouth to conceal a snort, before taking her hand in his. He led her out to the small garden, shrubs dusted in freshly fallen snow creating a private clearing for the two, and put an arm around her waist. She kicked off her shoes to step on his feet, and she willingly followed his steps.

Be them Chat Noir or Adrien, she had a feeling she would never stop admiring the weight those feet walked with every day.


	2. Ladybug/Chat Noir - Butterflies in her Hair

**_be careful what you wish for._ **

* * *

They clung to her hair like puppet strings, flitting over her eyes and coating her in their shroud of inky blackness. 

She stared at him, those big, blue eyes dulled from their former competitive flame. No words he could shout would get through to her that the Akuma hadn’t twisted and distorted in her mind.

“My Lady… please don’t make me fight you.”

His begging was pathetic. All she did was give a sneer at him. The movements her body made were not her own, and she attacked him like she had no skeletal structure at all.

“Ladybug–!”

Chat Noir jumped to avoid another attack. “Please,  _remember_ yourself! I…”

_Why hadn’t I pushed harder with her true identity?_

“Your Miraculous.” That monotone voice asked. “And I spare your life.”

His heart shattered.  _Is this the best mercy you can offer through that corruption?_ “And if I refuse?”

“I’ll take it from you. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re alive or dead.”


	3. Chat Noir/Ladybug - Embrace

Three blood drops stain the ground where he’s hunched over, hand over his mouth, and his laboured breathing fills the air. With the Akuma defeated, that should be the main worry over.

But it isn’t. The adrenaline isn’t leftovers–it’s the raw deal, red hot pulsing through her veins as she rushes over to him as fast as her feet will take her right to his side. 

“Chat! Oh my _God,_ Chat, are you alright?” She kneels down beside him, puts a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at her with tired eyes.

They’ve been fighting for too long now, she thinks. It’s started to blur her realities. Marinette and Ladybug, the daylight hours and the moments when she sleeps. Everything is mixing together in an uncomfortable blend, and she hates it. Hates it for what it’s doing to  _her,_ but more than that. 

What it’s doing to  _Chat_. 

She doesn’t know his identity, but she doesn’t  _need_ to know to feel his anguish. Whatever hidden secrets he has doesn’t matter when he collapses into her, barely holding onto her arms. 

“…w’nd…h’ldin’ me…’ew ‘econds…?”

His words are blurred. White hot pain hurts her wrist, and that Akuma landed a spectacular blow to his jaw. They may be blinkering out in a second, but she doesn’t care. She’ll grant his request for a respite.

So in the cool hours of a Saturday morning, the sun barely poking above the skies of Paris, two clad-in-costume vigilante heroes cling to each other for some sort of protection against their own paranoia.


	4. Chat Noir/Ladybug - Eclipse

“Erm, my Lady…?”

There were many ways their nightly patrols could have started. A brisk walk, some playful banter, fighting someone corrupted by Hawkmoth’s taint, weighing the costs of collateral damage to everyday life in accordance with the fate of the world on their hands… many ways that it could have possible began.

Chat Noir  _didn’t_ foresee his Lady, the talented and the elegant Ladybug… _peering_ at him.  She had leaned forward, eyes focused on him, and he could practically  _feel_ her breath on his nose. 

“Your eyes.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Your eyes,” Ladybug said again as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, eyes. I do need them to see, my Lady.” A slow smirk came to his lips. “Or are you admiring them, now? Have they captured your interest?”

Ladybug scoffed and lightly tapped his chest. “Stop being such a flirt. That’s not the reason at all.” She pulled back and put a hand on her hip. “But I will admit they’ve captured  _part_ of my interest.”

 _This_ surprised him. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. With the eclipse tonight, they’re practically glowing in the dark. Like, more than they usually do.” 

“Oh?”

She gestured up to the moon. It looked like a child had found a dark marker and scribbled in the main body, but forgotten to colour around the lines. “I’m just wondering if our powers are linked with what goes on around us, or if it’s just you.”

Chat Noir perched on the building top and gazed up at it. “I… can’t honestly answer that. Maybe it’s more Pl–my Kwami’s link, not my own. At least,  _I’ve_ never felt a calling.”

“But it’s  _your_ eyes that are glowing.”

“Well…” He faltered, and his ears drooped. “Does it look… odd?”

“What?” The very thought seemed to shock her to her core. “Of course not. If anything…” 

Ladybug never failed to surprise him, but when she served on her heels and rubbed the back of her neck, a _different_ sort of perplexity washed over him. She was refusing to face him, and if his night vision served him correctly, then… her ears were turning a different colour.

“They  _are_ sort of pretty.”

If hearts could rip out of chests, then his had just made it’s home in the selfless warmth of his Lady’s. 

He stared at her with wide eyes, because of  _course_ that’s was all he could do, and his mouth gaped. It felt like the side had been cleaned out with sandpaper, and no words could form where the mind had burnt out from shock.

“D-Don’t just stare at me! Say  _something!”_

Her flustered nature… reminded him of something. Distant. Shy. 

_I’ll just have to take that as it comes. No point ruining the moment for some pre-conceived theories._

“So, I  _was_ right.” He couldn’t help a wolfish grin from spreading. “My eyes  _did_ indeed capture your admiration. Did they manage to steal your heart, too?”

She spun around and glared. “Don’t get too cocky, Chat.  _My_ heart isn’t easily stolen just by pretty eyes  _alone!”_

“So you admit they are pretty?”

“Ugh! Come on, we’ve got a city to protect.”

“Your pretty-eyed cat is at your service, my Lady.”

**_“Chat!”_ **


	5. Nino/Marinette - Birthdays (Platonic) - PART ONE

“Marinette? Can I talk to you?”

Lifting her eyes from her book, Marinette was surprised to see the voice that had caught her attention belonged to Nino. He wasn’t looking at her–in fact, he was glancing to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets and foot scuffing against the ground–but it was clear he wanted something.

“Oh. Hi, Nino. Is… something the matter?” She closed her book and set it in her lap. 

“The scarf that Adrien had for his birthday.” She flinched when he got straight to the point. “You made it, didn’t you?”

Marinette felt her heart lurch in her throat. “I…”

“I’m not…” Nino rubbed behind his neck. “I’m not trying to sound  _angry._ I just wanted to say thanks to you on his behalf. He’ll probably never realise that you made it, and… well, you know he thinks his Dad got it for him.”

She folded her hands in her lap and smiled a little. “I don’t know everything about what’s wrong between him and his Dad, and I don’t want to pry, but… if it makes him happy thinking it, who am I to ruin that?”

“Man, Alya wasn’t kidding when she said you have it  _bad_ for him.”

When she flushed, his laughter only made her redder. “Is it really that obvious…?”

Nino took a seat beside her and patted her shoulder. “To everyone but him, I’d say. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one, in your position.”

Marinette groaned and hid her face in her hands. 

“But… seriously, though.” She looked up to see Nino smiling at her. “I haven’t seen him look that happy in a while. Thanks for not telling him, for what it’s worth.”

Marinette slowly sat up again, and brushed off her knees. “Well… you’re welcome. You’re a good friend to him, Nino.”

He swiped a finger under his nose. “I have to be to keep up with how awesome he is to _me_!”

“He’s that good of a friend to you?”

Nino laughed. “The  _best.“_


	6. Nino/Marinette - Passion (Platonic) - PART TWO

Many unexpected things bloomed in teenage years. From crushes to fleeting admirations, study paths thwarted by an unexpected talent, all battling with desperation for social conventions or a complete disregard for them. Truly, teenagers were a spectacle to behold.

What  _had_ cropped up in the latest months, however, had shocked  _everyone._ Nobody had expected…

“Nino, all I’m  _saying_ is if you’re going to capture  _art,_ you need to do more than document it! Recording and video are art too, and you need your own style!”

“But that messes with the  _authenticity,_ Mari. You need to give an unbiased, unedited version of events so people can trust the material!”

…the  _friendship_ that had formed between Nino and Marinette.

“That is true, and I’m glad you’re sticking to that.” Marinette sighed and put her bags down on the nearest bench. “But you wouldn’t read a long paragraph of information, would you? You’d stay for the  _voice._ You need to give your work its own _voice_ _,_ an  _identity._ Not just facts.”

“I… guess so. But it’s hard to do that without getting rid of things I don’t agree with.” He unhooked the headphones from around his neck, and placed them next to his bag, before rubbing the back of his neck.

Marinette sighed, and put a hand on his shoulder. “What things do you think you’d be passionate about?”

“I like reporting on events, you–”

“I  _know_ that. But… maybe you could report on things that you know about, as a starting point?” 

He paused. “You mean like how Alya runs that blog on Chat Noir and Ladybug?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Taking her hand off his shoulder, she reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchpad. “See, like this. I started off at the beginning just designing dresses for girls.” 

She flipped through to the start, and he peered at the work. Marinette showed him the very beginnings of her passion. The poorer drawings, the lack of folds, and the unoriginality of her pieces. But she looked at them with a proud fondness, if nothing else. “It was pretty poor work,” she said. “But I didn’t dive in head-first and get lost. I did what I was used to, and worked it out from there. Now I design dresses, hats, trousers, and I’ve  _still_ got so much more left to learn.”

“That’s… actually a good point.” He took off his red cap and settled it in his lap. “I’ve not actually… I like recording events, but what good is a camera without a focus?”

“One that can eventually  _find_ it, Nino. You’re already passionate about your friends and wanting them to have a good life. Maybe you can start from there. Right?”

He couldn't fight that grin. "...Right."


	7. Ladybug/Chat Noir - Wild Flames

She was the darling of Paris. The little Ladybug spreading her wings to shield the city from the storm. She was the hero to so many, the one who stood strong in any face of danger, the one to look up to.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“Ch…”

The flames still crackle behind you, they’re enveloping you, and how sad it is when you want to hurt something in revenge, but the identity of that perpetrator is little more than a consequence to a shambled ruin of a life.

“ _Chat_ …”

Her hand weakly reaches up, and she’s crying. She can’t see anymore. Her eyes have been too consumed by the flames for that.

Yet you take her hand, as broken as  _you_ are, you know you’ll make it out. But she won’t, because the Universe won’t let someone like her outshine it.

“Are you still there…?”

“Yeah.” You swallow back your tears, back your hesitations, and carefully scoop her up onto your lap. “Yeah, I’m here, Bugaboo.”

"Good..." The smile fades. “Don’t… let me be alone now, please…”

_You’re the one who never wanted me to stay to figure out who you were._

But you’ll grant her wish (because you would do anything for her except let her die for you, and guess what,  _that’s exactly what happened)_ , and hold her until her breathing stops, her body grows cold, and you grow insane from the grief.

“Never.” You say to her pallor corpse. 

_Never._


	8. Marinette/Nathanael - One Toe in the Water

It was no secret that Nathanael preferred to live in a world of dreams and black-and-white sketch lines than the vibrant colourful mess that was the real world. A sketchbook clutched to his chest, his red hair hiding one eye from the world, he plunged himself into his artistry, catching any snippets of time and inspiration along the way down in the rabbit hole of his imagination.

Social conventions were  _not_ something he liked to partake in. However…

“So, will you come? You don’t have to, I just thought it might be fun!”

… seeing Marinette  _smiling_  at him, hands fiddling behind her back as she asked him to come to the river with her after school hours, he couldn’t scramble together an excuse  _not_ to. Well, more like any words that were coherent escaped him altogether. It was just him giving her some help on sketching a background piece for one of her drawings, but the fact she had sought him out of  _all_ people made his heart skip a beat.

“I…” He swallowed down any hesitation. “Sure. I. That would be fun. I’d li–love to!”

“Really?” The sparkle in her eyes made any fuss from Chloe in the next few weeks  _completely_ worth it. “That’s great! I’ll see you after school, then?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice, and she bid him farewell with a small wave and a chipper grin. Her retreating figure disappeared into her next classroom, and he couldn’t help but return the grin in kind. He brushed back his fringe to look up at the sun poking in through the windows, at the raindrops streaking down the glass. 

Perhaps social situations were a dark abyss of murky depths, but the first toe in the water hadn’t been so bad. He was sure, for her sake, he could wade through the currents to get to the next shore.


	9. Chat Noir/Marinette - Touch the Clouds

She shouldn’t be here.

Not in the arms of her rebellious street cat. Not clutching onto the arms of her crime-fighting partner without the guise of her mask. The only cover of her other identity being a flimsy imitation of adoration and mixed-in facets of her real personality.

Marinette wasn’t too sure how it had happened. How this situation had even came to be. One minute she was studying for an upcoming test, discarding another chewed-up pen lid, and the next…

…she’s accepting the hand of a visiting alleycat, and hearing the wind whistle through her ears.

 _Why are you drawn to me?_ She wonders.  _Why do you visit me, in this form? You can’t know it’s me. You haven’t said anything. And more over, why… why did I accept? This is just stupid._

Yet here she is, perching on the lap of the one who advances she is constantly refuting in favour of her own masks.

“Like what you see, Princess?”

A flush comes to her face, and she rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean to stare. I… I was just wondering something.”

Chat Noir’s ears perk. (Both pairs of them.) “Oh? Is it something I can answer?”

“Yeah. I was… wondering why you decided to visit  _me,_ out of all the people you could choose. Wouldn’t you rather spend time with someone like… I don’t know… the mayor’s daughter?”

_“Chloe?”_

She blinks. “You know her?”

Something in him falters. She  _knows_ they’ve met a few times (Chloe had been more than the root cause of a few of their problems), but… something in his speech indicates a personal response. Shock, almost.

“I know  _of_ her.” He clears his throat and recovers. “People like her are certainly amusing, but not people who're company is particularly enjoyable. If she doesn’t respect ordinary people, then why should she get the attention of a hero?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Egomaniac.”

A small smirk quirks those lips, and a hot coil turns in her belly at the sight. “A Princess with an attitude. What a rare find.”

“Well–”

They’re brought to a halt, and she’s still clinging onto him, the cityscape winds still whistling around their feet. Chat Noir is careful as he lets her feet touch the bare-edge of a rooftop directly looking over the city harbour, and she has to barely hold in a gasp as she takes in the sights.

“A pretty girl such as yourself deserves to see the night in all its beauty, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Is… that why you brought me here?”

He shrugs, and perches (ever so much like a feline) on the edge. “I figured I owe you something in return for your help last week. Whilst I can’t take you to the clouds, seeing your city like this seemed something that would stick in your mind.”

For a brief moment, the temptation to reveal her identity crosses her mind, dangling dangerously on the tip of her tongue. But she swallows the words down and instead translates it to a simple kiss on the cheek of her hellion with a heart of gold.

She’s somewhat smug when she sees the flush of pink across his cheeks.

“I hope you have those nine lives, Chat Noir,” she whispers in his ear, “because I believe this  _Princess_ just took your breath away with that.”


	10. Marinette/Adrien - Warm Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Adrien is a cat, and loves his Lady's lap.

“Dating” was a word subjective to the participants involved. Affection could exist of all types, all intimacies, and still remain platonic. It could also be blurry, messy, and so very, very confusing. 

Their identities revealed, Marinette found small mannerisms of Adrien seeped into Chat Noir, and vice-versa. The shy glances from Chat merged with Adrien, the quiet politeness came in scant moments from Adrien to Chat. It was confusing but so very  _natural._ Other walls came down as well–freedom to speak of their problems, their worries, their likes, and dislikes… everything was becoming closer than she thought they ever would be, delivered to her with a nice red bow.

But there was one thing that she  _hadn’t_ accounted for.

Adrien,  _and_ Chat _loved_ to… be close to people.  _Her,_ to be more specific.

Randomly during the day at school, if she were sat down, his head would be on her shoulder or dropped into her lap. He would throw a random arm around her if they were walking together, and at times ruffle her hair and praise her on small trivia. 

…And she  _adored_ him for it.

It was happening again–he had snuck in through her bedroom window whilst her parents were out (presumably to get food, though she knew they would take a detour to “reminisce” the good old days. Romantic nerds.), and his head was in her lap as she fiddled with his hair with one hand, whilst sketching with the other.

“Mm…” He sighed happily, closing his eyes. A smile curved her lips. The cat-like tendencies were uncanny.

“Tired?” 

“Not… particularly.” He mumbled, hiding his face more in her lap. 

 _Blushing again,_ she realized. “Are you sure? You’re all sleepy.”

“Mmf. Can’t blame me, Mari. Long day. Chloe-smotherings. School work. Daddy issues. All the good stuff.”

Marinette laughed and poked his nose. “That could be the blurb of your autobiography.” Putting her sketchpad away, she put her hand on his cheek, making him peer up at her with one eye. “Can you sit up for a second?”

“Huh? Sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he sat up, watching her as she shuffled to the corner of her bed. 

She propped up several pillows, rolled up her blanket, and leant against it, before patting her lap. “Come on,” she waved him over. “You’re sleepy, and I need to relax.”

He paused. “Is… there enough room?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “I  _mean,_ you can sit on my lap.”

A slow blush crept up his neck. “I… uh, that is…”

“You think only girls can sit on guys laps or something?”

“What? No, not at all!” Her gaze was making him flush. “I… I’m just… tall. Taller than you. And heavy. And…”

“And going to keep making up excuses?” She giggled, before reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Adrien, it’s  _okay._ I know you like curling up in my lap. You’re always trying to cuddle up to me, you think I wouldn’t have noticed?” She then poked his chest. “Also, you’re  _not_ heavy. I’ve picked you up before, remember?”

That brought a smile to his face, and his slight laughter made her heart skip a beat. “I do remember. Well, then I suppose there’s no point trying to keep making excuses.” 

The movements to  _get_ to that embrace were somewhat filled with that light-hearted awkwardness they’d come to adore about one another–between finding a comfortable placement, a mismatch of long limbs and short ones, Adrien had finally managed to be curled up in her lap. He rested his head on her collarbone, and she had her arms wrapped around his waist and her nose in his hair. His slow breaths lulled her to a light doze. 

He was so  _warm._

“Suppose I can’t make up excuses either,” she sighed, bringing him in closer. “I love them, too.”


	11. Marinette/Adrien - Blind Date (AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two parts of pure, saturated fluff.

The first half an hour was the easiest, Marinette figured. Some small quips from the waiter about the traffic levels, about the weather, about the quality of cars and the rather obscure location of the restaurant. She was more than happy to remain with one glass of sherry wine, twirl it around the rim, before helping herself to dainty amounts.

Blind dates were never her forte, but her friend Alya had  _begged_ her to go on at least  _one._ To “get her head out of a mourning-single craze”, so to speak. Relationships were fleeting for Marinette, like the beating of a ladybug’s wings, and could be gone within seconds. 

But after the next hour ticked by, she rather preferred that to being stood up. 

“Would you like another glass of wine? The boys in the bar said it’ll be on the house.”

Marinette chuckled bitterly and handed her glass over to the sympathetic waiter. “Give me a river of the stuff,  _please._ ”

After the third hour, she had tugged on her jacket and picked up her bag. She wouldn’t let her date have the satisfaction of wasting her time any longer. Was he laughing? She was sure he’d be laughing–

“Hi! I’m  _so_ sorry I’m late.” A hand gently touched her shoulder, and she whipped her head around to see–whoah, a  _gorgeous_ smile on an even more gorgeous face. Still, she  _was_ confused. Alya had said her date had red hair combed over one eye, not… blond hair slightly untamed. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

He lowered his lips to her ear. “Whoever stood you up was an  _idiot,_ and I couldn’t stand the thought of such a lovely woman wasting her time here alone for so long. If you’d like to at least  _have_ a date tonight, then I’m par for the course.”

A flush crept down from her face to her neck, to the tips of her fingers, and the soles of her feet. To be whisked away by a beautiful stranger on a night in Paris? She felt like she was in one of those corny romance novels she–sadly–read every night.

But, good  _God,_ she wasn’t going to refuse.

She smiled at him and held out a hand. “Perhaps introductions are in order. My name is Marinette, I was just stood up by one person, but I would be honoured to spend my evening with the beautiful stranger who saved me from embarrassment.”

“ _Beautiful_? Ah…” He scratched under his chin and flushed to the outer shell of his ears. “Well, erm. That’s… uh. Thank-you.”

For the first time in three hours, she hopped off of the small bar stool and took a place at the rounded ornate tables meant for two. She never went into anything blind, but the joy of jumping in head-first into such a scenario excited her to the core of her heart.

The night was still young, after all.

* * *

Date number three was in motion, and Adrien was surprised at how slick the wheels were turning in the relationship (could he call it that? Would it creep her out?) between himself and Marinette.

Fate was something he had long dismissed (though that was in part due to his Father’s dismissal of such an idea), but the idea couldn’t help but pull at him since their first encounter. The lone girl sat at the bar, pitied looks shared by the restaurant staff as she downed her third glass of cherry liquor. Something had compelled him–be it his kindred spirit calling out for a companion, or the fact that, wow, whoever stood  _her_ up was an utter idiot.

Marinette, quite simply, was one of the most wonderful people he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

This time, it was her choice of location. He nervously tapped his foot against the pavement outside the small bakery, checking his watch every so often.

“Adrien!”

He turned to see her running, hair slightly dishevelled, waving at him. Internally, he was relieved.  _She did show up. As if she’d be so cruel to actually do it, but…_

She wheezed, steadying her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m…” Another inhale. “I-I’m so sorry I’m late, my friend Alya had an emergency appointment and she needed someone to watch her little sister for her for a while and–well, the times seemed to be okay but–I didn’t think of the actual  _journey_ here, and–”

“ _Mari._ ” He gently grabbed her hand, chuckled, and noticed it silenced her immediately. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”

Marinette flushed. “But…”

“But if you  _really_ want to make it up to me,” he said, putting a finger on her lips and winking. “Then you can stop getting so flustered over being late, and actually,  _visit_ the bakery we were supposed to go and see?”

With a hasty apology (complete with more flushed cheeks, he internally cheered), the two walked into the small, backstreet bakery quietly content in a small, cobblestone plaza, hidden amongst twined grapevines and rose bushes. The two took a seat outside, brown paper bags in their hands, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air.

As he nibbled away at his raisin croissant, he glanced at Marinette at the corner of his eye. Her knees weren’t knocking together like usual, and she only half-heartedly took bites of her eclair.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.” It seemed that was a slip of the tongue, and she sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t  _want_ to start this date off all miserable…” 

His heart clenched. “Miserable?”

Quiet hung over her like a shroud, and he couldn’t read her blank expression or clouded eyes. Usually, she was like a book. Deep, poetic, and full of surprises, but still open enough to give a general idea of what she was thinking. 

Now? Nothing.

“You’re not… meeting up with me just because you pity me from that one date, right?”

Something in him froze. “…What?”

“I mean…” She couldn’t bear to look at him, and turned her head away. “The first date was wonderful. You were such a gentleman, so polite and kind and… well, just a very  _lovely_ person to be around.” The praise made him flush to his ears, but it seemed she wasn’t done. “Then when you asked for a  _second_ date, I thought I was out of my mind. That went really well, too.”

“But?”

“I just… can’t help but think that all this is pity for being stood up that one time. I’m not really all that good to be around for long, and…” She tugged on the end of her pigtail. “Great, I’m sharing insecurities on the  _third_ date. I’m sorry, Adrien, I-I didn’t mean to unload all this on you, I…”

Those beautiful blue eyes glossed over, and he was compelled to cover his hand with hers. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and he felt her fingers tremble under his tender grip. 

He laughed a little and shook his head. “You know who I pity the most? The idiotwho stood you up. Because he never got to know what a funny, kind, and wonderfulperson that  _you_ are.”

“What?”

“Mari, do you really think I’d stick around for three dates on pity  _alone?”_

“Well. I-I suppose not.” Another flush spread through her cheeks, and even more so when he pressed his forehead to hers. 

A few moments, he remained there, before a small flicker of a thought entered his mind that had him going completely red within seconds. Marinette pulled back and gave him an odd look.

“Is everything alright–?”

“Can I kiss you?”

She spluttered. “P-Pardon?”

He dropped his croissant onto his lap, and pulled back, posture stiffened by the realization that sunk into his mind over what he had just said. “I… I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought that… may I… may we? Wait, what am I even  _saying…_ ”

“You…” She said the words slowly as if to process them, a slow grin curving her lips upward. “You want to  _kiss_ me?” 

 _Ears are not meant to feel this hot._ “I  _did_ ask. Would that be… okay?”

Carefully, she placed her own bag down, and shuffled a little closer to him, biting her lip. “I’d like that very much. So long as you close your eyes.”

“I think…” Words. What were words? Oh yeah, to communicate with other life forms. “I can do that…”

Darkness overcame his vision as his lips met hers, but all he could see was her face in his mind. 

He hoped it would stay that way for a very,  _very_ long time.


	12. Chloe/Alya - Stars in their Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I can ship them, that's why.

 

> _“Remember they said you’d show them all? Emphasise the rise but not the fall.” -_ **Just Jack - Starz in their eyes.**

From birth, they had ripped away her identity from her. Tacked it up on every glossy magazine cover, edited, brushed, rid of any trace of flaw. A caricature of perfection. Almost like a hollowed doll that spoke words censored from personality.

Loud and proud. Glitz and glam. Words to live by, to bow down to. And if they expected it of her, she would stomp all limitations into the ground.

“An interview? With  _me?_ ”

Chloe slammed her locker shut and popped her bubblegum in her mouth. Her usual lackeys had scattered back into their classrooms, not daring to hang around after the bell. 

But here she stood, in an empty corridor, staring at a rather peculiar example of a budding journalist. She’d seen Alya around. Mainly with Marinette. She didn’t think too much of her, honestly. (Of course, she ran the Ladyblog, but that was something she’d never divulge to  _anyone._ ) 

“Yeah.” Alya folded her arms and sighed. “Look, you’ve been around both Ladybug  _and_ Chat Noir’s cases lately. I figured if anyone could clock me into who they are, or what they’re fighting against, you could provide the most hints.”

“And what do  _I_ get out of this?”

Alya shrugged. “Not sure. I just figured you wanted your voice to get out there more.”

“So, what, free exposure? You know what an insult that is to artists, right?”

Alya groaned and turned on her heel. “I  _know_ that. I have a friend who’s… what does it matter? I was just curious. All  _your_ interviews seem to be about your father. I just thought you… I don’t know. Forget it.”

Starry-eyed looks, glossing over her personality in favour of more sponsorship and awareness for her father. But these eyes had been brimming with genuine interest _._

 _“…_ No. What were you going to say?”

Alya paused, but still refused to look at her. “You get up in everyone’s faces all the time about your Dad being mayor, but it’s sort of pathetic. You never talk about  _yourself._ It obviously gets to you that people can’t see outside of that–maybe aside Adrien, so you cling to him. I just thought you might want your ownvoice heard. That’s all.”

_Pathetic?!_

…Well, maybe in her own way, she was right. Not that she’d ever admit to it, though. Not to the likes of her.

“Alright.”

Alya turned her head to gaze at her, shocked. “What?”

Chloe scoffed. “Can’t you hear? I said  _alright._ I’ll do it.”

“I… wasn’t expecting that.” Alya rubbed the back of her neck. “Friday lunchtime, then? Over by the library?”

“Whatever. See you there.”

Despite the way she shrugged her shoulders and walked off, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.


	13. Adrien - Keepsake

They call childhood the golden years of life. The time of blissful ignorance about the corruption of society, of the red-raw pain of the human race. For some, that ignorance is shattered sooner than others.

_“Daddy, where’s Mommy?”_

Adrien walks over to the chest of drawers, half-drained and sluggish footsteps dragging him there. Even in spite of the sleep-deprived mind, he won’t stop. He can’t stop. He  _needs_ to keep going. 

_“Daddy? Why are the police officers here again? Are they here to bring Mommy home?”_

He knows Plagg is watching him with sad eyes, the very antithesis of his lazy and carefree nature. Adrien opens the drawer, and memories flood back.

_“Daddy, when is Mommy going to be back?”_

The small box, tattered and worn, is picked up from the back of the drawer into his hands.

_“Have I done something wrong, Daddy? Why don’t you talk to me anymore?”_

He lifts the lid.

_“Daddy?”_

As soon as he sees the small, five-pointed lilac star hooked on that chain, he crumbles to the floor. He clutches the necklace close to him, lets out a barely contained sob, and curls up like the child he denies he is. 

_“When is Mommy coming back?”_


	14. Chat Noir/Ladybug, and Gabriel Agreste - Misused Bad Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien makes a discovery about his father, and about his own limits.

“Dad…? This was all  _you?_ ”

The stained-glass windows of the Cathedral had shattered into a billion pieces, making sharp replacements for the stars  _his_ clouds had covered up and shoved to the wayside. He stood up there, like it was centre stage, suit tattered and torn and feigning ignorance to the pleas of the winds of the cityscape. They clawed and  _begged_ for him to stop hurting the city, to no avail.

He merely tapped his cane on the ground and gave a curt nod. “I never intended for you to find out this way, Adrien. But, I suppose, we all have our cards lain out on the table, now. All of us can be dishonest no longer.”

Chat Noir flitted a brief, concerned look to his partner–to Ladybug, to Marinette–crouched on the ground. He was certain her arm was broken, and she looked more like an abandoned marionette doll than the darling heroine of Parisian nights. 

_She’s still here, though. Fighting. That’s all that matters._

“Dishonest…?” He shook his head. “Dad,  _why?_ Why were you… all my friends, all those people! You… you took advantage of them in their weakest moments, and forced them to  _hurt_ people!  _Why?_ ”

“I never forced them to do  _anything,_ Adrien _._ I offered a deal, they accepted.” Gabriel’s voice was cold. Unfeeling. Hawkmoth’s, at least, had the passion behind the mask. 

Adrien wasn’t sure what was worse. The fact he had gotten used to the icy edge in his father’s voice, or that he preferred Hawkmoth.

“Alright, alright.” Chat Noir forced Adrien’s throat to hold back a sob. “Alright, alright, alright… just.” He cleared his throat, and the grip on his baton tightened. “Just tell me  _why._ Tell me why you did this. I deserve  _some_ answers.”

“Do you?”

His blood ran cold.  “As a son, _you_ abandoned in favour of hurting people? Yes.”

Gabriel Agreste paused, and it was Hawkmoth that considered what to say next. His posture  _oozed_ confidence, but Adrien had never been truly blind. He could pinpoint every word of debate in one glance. Reading people had never been his forte, but he knew the words of a liar and a cheat like the back of his paw.

“Ch-Chat…” Ladybug sat up, cradling her arm. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You just rest up for a little bit.” Chat Noir crouched at her side, and held her shoulders gently. “I’m going to get everything sorted out, my Lady. I promise you.”

He smiled softly at her, before it faded into a glare as he turned back toward Gabriel. 

He didn’t expect to see the man look so  _unguarded._

“Such a heart-warming sight.” Adrien flinched at the sincerity dripping from his lips. “The few things you keep close to you… you truly do love them with every fibre of your being, don’t you, my son?”

_Shut up._

“That is where our family bloodline resides our pride in. Our desperation and dedication to those we love.”

The blood from his face began to flee, resigning his skin to the pallor of curdled milk. “Y-you…”

“The Miraculous, Adrien. They can bring her  _back_ to me. To us.” The smile that contorted his father’s face held no semblance of sanity. “They hoard the power to themselves, those little creatures that claim to be your allies, but I am  _certain_ I have found a way to bring her back to us!”

His father’s glee stopped dead in its tracks, and the chilling demeanor returned. There was no love in his eyes when he glared daggers at Adrien, balancing the knife on the edge of spraying the room red.

“And  _you_ would have me stopped in bringing her back to us. How selfish can you  _be,_ Adrien? Did you truly hold no love for your own  _mother?_ ”

The knife dropped and left a scar on his heart.

He was bleeding as he abandoned his Lady on the ground, alone and battered.

“Ch-Chat? What are you…”

“ _ **Cataclysm**_.”

He barely heard her screams of protest, and both Adrien and Chat, one body, one mind,  _launched_ themselves toward the faceless entity that wore the skin of his father.

Years behind a screen. Blurred voices and cutting him off.

_What makes a mask any different, Dad?_

“ADRIEN!  _STOP!_ ”

* * *

“– _gah_!”

His hands thrashed around on the cold floor. Stone. Open air.

Adrien took a look at his surroundings, barely catching the breaths that escaped him. His chest heaved, with the debris from the buildings still clinging to the air around him.

He stopped dead at the sight of Marinette, cradling the two exhausted kwami in her hand. The other had been taken care of in a makeshift sling (her jacket sleeves were ripped), and blood trickled from her lips.

“M-Marinette? What…”

She looked at him with a tired expression, and his heart clenched. “Did… was that really… my father…?”

It only took a nod for his heart to stop beating, and he shakily sighed as he looked away from her.

“D-Did I really try to…?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet. “I couldn’t use Lucky Charm in time. I couldn’t reverse it this time  _and_ stop you.” Marinette put the kwami into her lap, and reached over to touch his hand. “I’m so  _sorry,_ Adrien.”

“It… it wasn’t a dream.” 

Her hands stiffened when a bitter howl of laughter came from his lips.

“It  _wasn’t_ a dream. It  _wasn’t a dream_ this time. Of all the dreams to come true, _this_ one did? Is everything just a joke to this world, Marinette?” His laughter reached near hysterics.

“Is my life one big JOKE to you, father? Is it something you’re laughing at  ** _RIGHT NOW?”_**

Adrien hadn’t realised the tears pouring from his  eyes as he stopped laughing, and began sobbing.

Marinette’s hand hadn’t left his, and he slowly broke down, until even his own legs refused to support him. His head lay in her lap, and all the years of defenses shattered.

“ _Why won’t I wake up, Marinette…?”_


	15. Adrien/Marinette - Question

“Can you believe we’ll be  _graduating_ in a few weeks? After everything that’s happened, it’s just… gone by, so fast.”

Adrien perched himself on the edge of Marinette’s desk, careful to avoid creaking any of the floorboards. He watched her with a smile as she sat on her bed, photographs spilling onto the floor. One of them in her hand was of their first date.

“It certainly  _has_ gone by fast.” He folded his arms. “Are you scared?”

“You  _bet_ I’m scared.” Marinette groaned and hugged her pillow. “It’s not that I’m not excited for where everything goes from here, it’s just… everything’s going to  _change_ again.”

When she ducked her head, he saw that as an opportunity to go over, sit next to her, and wrap an arm around her shoulders. Almost instinctively, she rested her head in the crook of his neck and sighed. 

“Alya’s going to study abroad. She’s  _leaving_ us _._ ”

He kissed the top of her head. “Not for a while yet. Did she promise you the best summer before all that? I believe she _did._ And even then, you know she’ll still keep in contact with you.”

Marinette sighed. “I know. I  _know._ I… I just want  _more_ time.”

Adrien ruffled his hand through her hair and hoisted her more so she could rest on his lap. He nearly chuckled when she curled up like a little cat, and he briefly wondered if he’d been rubbing off on her.

_Maybe… maybe I could ask her now._

“How is everything going for you?”

“Huh?”

He cleared his throat. “You said you were looking for a small student apartment. I was wondering how that was going?”

She groaned at the reminder, and he winced a little. “ _Badly._ The ones that are close to the place I’m studying are so  _expensive._ But I… I want Mama and Papa to have some time to themselves, so…”

“Mari, you’re out  _all the time_ being Ladybug. And I  _have_  offered to help you out.”

He could feel her cheeks flush, and barely swallowed down another laugh. “That’s  _different._ Plus, I don’t want to take any money from you. You remember what your father was like when you suggested a recommendation for me to get into the University in the first place. Remember?”

Oh, he  _did_ remember. The cold look spread across in his father’s icy eyes, and the brave,  _wonderful_ way Marinette stood up not only for herself but for  _him_ as well.  In the end, Marinette scraped her way in by her nails and the good word of all her teachers. 

“Plus…” His ears perked when she continued. “I… all the places I  _have_ found are so far away from everyone else. Is it selfish not to want to be alone?”

_There’s not a better time than this. Ask her. **Ask her.**_

“…Maybe you wouldn’t have to be?”

Marinette lifted her head, and he nearly forgot how to speak from the wide-eyed, crystal eyes that were staring right into his soul. The word “beautiful” never did do enough to define her. “What?”

He gulped. “Well. You, uh.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, going faster as the nerves increased. 

“Adrien…?”

“I’m getting an apartment soon.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re moving out?”

Adrien smirked. “Come on, Princess. You didn’t think I’d stay under the same roof as my father for too much longer, did you?” He grabbed her hand and began to play with her fingers out of habit. “I have some savings of my own thanks to all the  _inane_ photoshoots he used to force me to go on. Maybe not enough to pay for me to live comfortably forever, but I’ve got a few connections, so I should be able to get a decent place.”

“I’m… well, I’m happy for you, Adrien.” She then frowned, furrowing her brows and curving those delectable cherry lips into a pout.  _So adorable._ “But what does that have to do with  _me?_ ”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t exactly want to be alone either.”

For a moment, she froze. Her hands went frigid. “O-Oh?”

His face grew hot. “Yeah. I… I don’t. So… if you want, uh. You could… I mean, if you  _wanted_ to, that is…”

He trailed off when he saw the look on her face.

The disbelieving smile she had worn when they had first revealed their identities. The starlight catching in her cerulean blue, mixing the beauty of the earth with the beauty of the unknown. Clocking together the thoughts in her head until they made that beautiful smile grow even  _more._

It left him  _breathless._

“You’re asking me to move in with you?”

“Yes.  _God,_ yes.” He gripped her hand a little tighter. “Would you? Is that something… you’d like?”

He never got a complete verbal answer from her. Marinette threw her arms around his neck, chanting a muffled assortment of “yes’s” into his chest, and bursting out into streams of wonderfully chipper laughter that flowed from the air to his ears, and he could drown in the happiness.


	16. Adrien/Marinette - Happiness

“Adrien…”

“Mm. Go ‘way. Sleeping.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Yes, you are. In my  _lap._ And I need to get up to move my legs, or they’ll fall off.”

Eyes still closed, a smile spread over his lip. “Good. Then I can carry you everywhere and you can never leave me. And your lap will forever be  _mine._ ”

Face hot, she groaned. “How. How can you  _possibly_ be that romantic and dorky when you’re  _half asleep?”_

 _“_ You–” Adrien barely concealed a yawn, and blinked sleepily at her. “You have that effect on me, Princess.”

Marinette smiled and poked his nose. “And you, me. But you can’t keep sneaking over here in the  _middle of the night_ to take a nap. One day, you’re going to be caught.”

“You’ve already captured  _my_ heart.”

Marinette sighed, before gently bobbing his head on her lap. “Alright,” she relented. “Just move over, then. I want to get some sleep too.”

As if by magic, Adrien suddenly jerked upward, and with that familiar cocky grin, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his arms, pressing light kisses to her neck.

“A-Adrien!” She giggled, squirming. “S-Stop–that t-tick–ah! Adrien!”

“More, you say? I shall oblige, my Princess!”

“I-I’m going to– _stop!”_ Her giggles filled the air, and she found her heart warming as she saw that look in his eye.

If her mother walked in on her hastily pretending to be on the phone and  _sitting_ on a rather large-looking lump underneath the blanket, then that was something she could sacrifice for the happiness she felt with him.


End file.
